


tell me about it, michael

by bareunloveliness



Category: Be More Chill - Iconis/Tracz
Genre: Best Friends, Fluff, Friendship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-28
Updated: 2018-11-28
Packaged: 2019-09-01 23:55:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,327
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16775482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bareunloveliness/pseuds/bareunloveliness
Summary: Michael and Christine make a deal; he'll see a musical with her if she plays a video game with him.





	1. Apocalypse of the Damned

"I don't understand how you don't  _ love _ musicals," Christine sighed, tapping the buttons on the controller as Michael turned the console on. She liked the sounds it made, but she was a little worried about the game itself. Not about being scared of the zombies, but rather how she might make Michael lose.

He breathed out. "It's not that I don't love  _ musicals _ , it's that I don't love  _ school musicals _ . You're great and even Rich's a little bit better of an actor than I care to admit, but the cast looks so dead on the stage. It's like, half of them don't want to be there. And it shows." He ejected the sport game that he was playing with his moms a few nights prior and inserted  _ Apocalypse of the Damned. _

"Yeah, I'm not sure why some girls do the show at all," she said as she recalled the endless middle school years where Chloe would make fun of her for talking about Wicked. She got to see it on Broadway, and Chloe made her feel like nothing within seconds of showing Jeremy her Playbill. "I think it's for the boys."

"Hey, some boys do the show for the girls," Michael retorted as he reached over and turned on her controller. "But if we're going to see  _ Grease _ at the theater tonight, you're playing Level Nine with me. It's only fair."

She had agreed that if he saw a show with her, she would play a video game with him. "It's  _ Grease: The Sing-along _ ," she corrected him. "And because it's not a live show and just the movie, I expect that you'll wear a white t-shirt and a leather jacket, Michael."

"That's my name, don't wear it out," he smirked.

Christine's mouth dropped open. "Wait, have you already seen  _ Grease _ ?"

"I have two gay moms, what do you think?"

"Oh my God, this is the best day of my life!"

"Christine, you saw  _ Hamilton _ with it's original Broadway cast."

"What about it?"

He rolled his eyes and selected the level. "Okay, so basically, avoid the zombies. Shoot them with that button," he pointed at the proper control. "And the rest of the time, just fucking run."

"See, it sounds way too easy when it put it like that," she said. "Just running."

The level started as Christine's character, an over-sexualized collection of pixels, began to run around in circles while Michael shot some of the zombies. "You're a natural!" he laughed, watching her panic as her avatar ran. 

"As fun as this is, how do I shoot?" she asked, clicking a frenzy of buttons without knowing what any of them did. One shot out lasers, and another paused the game. She figured out which one did that as she unpaused, throwing both of them back into bloody, gory action. 

"Hold that one down," he said since she had figured out which one shot. "and a little square shows up on the screen. That's your target. Aim and release!" Christine followed his instructions and took out a zombie.

"That was easy!" She did it again. And again. Much faster than Jeremy ever did, and more focused. The level was cleared within ten minutes. 

Michael stared at the screen with a dropped jaw. "Christine, we've been working on this level for months. Are you sure you've never played this before?"

"Never," she grinned, her answer honest as her perfect shot. "So, when are we buying our tickets for tonight, stud?"

"Already ordered."


	2. Grease is the Word

"Sandy," he said, opening the car door as he took her hand. With an expensive blonde wig that she bought to play Cinderella years prior, Christine stepped out of the car with a humble smile. She wore her bright, bubblegum pink poodle skirt and a slick white blouse. Accompanying her was Danny Zuko, complete with slicked back hair. The glasses stayed on, but they almost worked with the contrasting leather jacket. 

She bit her lip, excited to geek out for once in her life with someone who not only let her, but encouraged her. Her parents let her do whatever she wanted, but never cared either way. Almost everyone else always told her to tone it down. And here was her best friend, who played into it. "Danny," she answered, trying to hide the massive grin that threatened to break out over her face.

He walked her to the back of his truck, where he set up the boom box. He took it from his moms' basement, where it had been stached since the late nineties. He found the right radio channel. There were only a few other cars around, as drive-ins weren't as popular with the kids as they used to be, even though they were ridiculously fun. Michael and Christine both knew the other teens around them were all couples who were probably going to make out at the very least in the back of their parent's cars, but they didn't care as their wide eyes turned to the big screen ahead, where a cartoon with the title song played, exactly like Christine had memorized it.

The great thing about sing along editions of movies is that the songs have extra background singers that are incredibly loud to one, cover up your horrible singing, and two, make you feel like you're not the only one singing. This allowed for Christine to over-riff and belt unnecessarily and for Michael to stumble on the words off key. While singing well was very fun, singing horribly wrong could often be more fun, if you don't have people telling you that you're horrible.

"Revel in the fact that there are some things we suck at!" Michael would always say, usually when trying to skateboard into school and promptly falling on his ass. "Falling is fun!"

"You're going to kill yourself," Jeremy would comment, deadpan.

Michael paused, confused. "And?"

At  _ Grease _ , Michael felt a little more alive than usual, a little more inclined to do stupid teenager things instead of quirky gamer things. There was a difference, he would insist. Although he didn't have a fresh popcorn machine, he had jammed a bag of Skinny Pop from one of his moms in the back of the truck, along with two bottles of Coca Cola. "We're basically a commercial," he said. "We just need like, an Imagine Dragons song playing in the background."

"That's for sports events," she said, recalling her time spent with Jake. "It's "Lollipop" that used for every ad ever. Especially ones that don't even like, sell lollipops, which is weird."

"Christine, I've never seen a commercial for lollipops in my life."

"Exactly!"

"You know, this is a really stupid movie," Michael commented. "Obviously, it's aesthetically beautiful and the music is iconic, but the premise is pointless. It's all based on miscommunication. If Danny had just explained that he loved Sandy and also loved his reputation, half the conflict would be solved. And if Sandy explained that she cherished her good girl image, but didn't want to be seen as a prude, the other half would be solved. It's ridiculous."

"Miscommunication is the basis for the best musicals!" Christine argued, rolling her eyes. " _ White Christmas. _ Best Christmas musical movie of all time, but if Bob was honest about the hotel, there would be no plot.  _ The Music Man. Guys and Dolls. _ Even Shakespeare's works were the same way! And not just his tragedies."

"Shakespeare wrote comedies?" Michael asked sarcastically with wide eyes, until she playfully threw popcorn at him. They went to see  _ Twelfth Night _ on a school field trip, and they were the only two laughing their asses off. That was the result of having an audience of teenagers who though "having greatness thrust upon him" is about greatness.

Eventually, as with all movies, the credits rolled and Christine's voice had finally worn out. She was a healthy singer, but soda wasn't the best for her tired vocal chords.

It was the best for her friendship, though.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Requests and/or comments can be written below or sent to my Tumblr @honeybeebecki.  
> Please. They're the reason authors keep writing.


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